


We've Got to Stop Meeting Like This

by Cupcake_Princess



Series: Redamancy [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Divergent, Depression, Double Agent Sombra, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hanzo Shimada has Prosthetic Legs, I love Moira but here she's an evil bitch, Implied Sexual Content, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Shimada Brothers, Shrike Ana Amari, just brothers trying to be brothers again, misunderstandings to friends to lovers, no family drama, past abusive relationship, please read An Honest Mistake too, pretty gory tbh, reaper is very confused, side fic!, spans from jesse losing an arm to post-talon, the story of a side pairing in my main fic, tobacco, veeeeeeeery slow burn, will deal with that later in the plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cupcake_Princess/pseuds/Cupcake_Princess
Summary: One good deed won't change a lifetime of bad. Hanzo Shimada knows this. But when the man whose life he saved several years ago turns out to be his believed-dead-brother’s best friend, he can only think one thing.“Oh God. What have I done?”The story of how a gold scarf changed (ruined) Hanzo’s life.(Note: This is a sister fic to An Honest Mistake. Get ready for some seemingly random timeskips and further elaboration on Jesse’s perspective. I swear this is going to be good! Also, read An Honest Mistake! This can be read on its own, but it’s probably better together. Just treat it as a prequel of sorts!)





	1. A Ribbon of Blood

“McCree! Jesse, come in!”

Jesse was only vaguely aware of the comm screeching in his ear. It seemed so far away compared to the aching pain of his arm. Well, what used to be his arm. All that remained was a bloodied stump, cut off just above his elbow.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he muttered through gritted teeth, looking at the viscera painting his side red. “You always were better close range.”

A black combat boot slammed down on his remaining hand, followed by a sickening snap. He didn’t scream; a mixture of Blackwatch resistance and blood-loss induced numbness. And pure defiance.

“And you always were a waste of resources,” Reaper snarled. “Where did all that training go? Certainly not into your brain. You should know better than to let your enemy get behind you.”

“You haven’t changed much.” Jesse could taste metal on his tongue as he forced out the words. He knew he didn’t have long left. And this time, the man pointing a shotgun at his head wasn’t going to offer him a deal. “What, is this all some kinda lesson on account of my sloppiness?”

A dark chuckle followed, and through his dimming vision, Jesse could see a talon slowly tightening around a trigger. “You should learn to respect your boss, _pendejo._ ”

“Yeah, well,” he swallowed, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I never was good with authority. _Gabe_.”

There had been times in Jesse McCree’s life when he’d wondered what exactly heaven looked like. Or if there would be one at all. A saint standing by the pearly gates, ready to welcome in those pure enough was what he’d been taught as a child. As an adult, he’d come to the realisation that if an afterlife did indeed exist… well, he probably wasn’t welcome.

But as a wonderful, blue light enveloped the ruined building he lay in, Jesse hoped he’d been wrong.

It was so pure; a brilliant turquoise, filling his veins with a soothing chill that resonated to his core. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a scream. But nothing mattered anymore. He was already dead after all.

“I’m comin’ mama,” Jesse murmured, feeling strong hands wrap around him, pulling him into the light.

He was not expecting a response. Let alone one in Japanese.

*

_Shit, shit, shit._ Hanzo frantically tore at the unconscious man’s shirt, trying to pull the remaining tatters out of the way of the wound. The figure in black had dissipated with the dragons, fading into nothingness. But no life had been claimed; the hunger burning under his skin not yet satiated. The ghost still lived. And with it, his mission remained.

What the spectre had even been here for remained a mystery, although to hazard a guess, it was something to do with the man he was so desperately trying to save. He was bleeding too much, pouring out over shaking hands. Just like last time.

He choked back a sob. Genji was gone. Years had passed since then, but images of his brother, dismembered by Hanzo’s own hand flooded to the surface.

“ _Iie_ ,” he growled. _Not this time. Not again._

Because Genji was gone. And the man whose name he didn’t know would die if he didn’t help.

And this time, he could.

Hurriedly yanking the ribbon from his hair, Hanzo wound it tightly around his bicep, pausing only when he heard a faint chatter in the air. His eyes widened in surprise. The man was wearing an earpiece.

Delicately, he removed it, and placed it in his own ear, only to be rewarded with a female voice almost screaming down the line.

“Jesse! _¡Háblame, vaquero!_ ” He winced. Spanish was not his forte, but hopefully she understood English.

“Your man is injured. I have done what I can to stabilise him, but he will not last much longer.”

He was met with silence for a few seconds before she replied. “Who are you, and why do you have Jesse’s comm?”

“My name does not matter.” Hanzo’s voice was sharp and full of urgency. “Just please, come to these coordinates and get him before he-,” The woman cut him off.

“I cannot trust someone I don’t know,” she replied coolly, although he could hear a slight tremor in her voice. “Tell me why you have Jesse’s communicator.”

“He was attacked,” Hanzo snarled. “There was a figure standing over him, about to kill him when I intervened. It disappeared into smoke and left.” When she didn’t respond, he continued: “I was sent here to dispatch the Reaper. I can only assume you were the same. But please hurry. Your Jesse has lost an arm.”

“ _Mierda,_ ” she muttered, before her voice became muffled, shouting to someone in the background. Hanzo rattled off the coordinates before taking one last look at the man on the ground. ‘Jesse’ was turning a rather sickly shade of grey, the tourniquet having slowed his bleeding, but not stopped it entirely. His chest still rose and fell with each breath, but they were laboured, sending shudders through his body. Placing the comm on the ground next to him, Hanzo turned to go.

“Live, Jesse,” he murmured in the vain hope that some deity was listening. “Live for those who love you.”

He waited nearby, crouched in one of the abandoned buildings that littered the landscape. It seemed like an eternity passed before the quiet of the desert was ripped in half by the engines of an aerial transport vehicle coming in to land. An evac team led by a short woman carrying an Uzi dashed into the shack Jesse lay in.

Watching as they left, Hanzo felt a rush of relief, quickly followed by one of shame. He had no reason to care for the man on the stretcher. No reason to have helped.

He could dedicate the rest of his life to aiding others, but it would never wipe his brother’s blood from his hands.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was a surprise. I started writing An Honest Mistake with one goal in mind. "Write a good first fic." But 12 chapters in, with 60 planned, I realised there's a lot going on in the background that I don't have space to talk about.  
> So in comes McHanzo.  
> I hope you like this. It's really getting fun to write, so I'm probably going to alternate between the two until important stuff comes up.  
> Thank you for reading, and please, let me know how you found it!  
> Until next time *^^*


	2. A Ribbon of Memory

“Are you going to stay in here and sulk all day?” Genji asked from the doorway. Jesse sighed, pulling his hat over his eyes.

“It ain’t none of your business what I do with my time,” he muttered, resting a hand on the frayed ribbon he’d been attempting to fix. A few years of constantly pawing over the thin fabric whenever he felt stressed had ruined the delicate gold stitching that hemmed its edge. Recently he’d been worrying it more than usual, so much so that Jesse had eventually reached for the sewing kit.

Which was a huge mistake. He scowled down at the mess of yellow. He hadn’t been able to find thread in that beautiful colour anywhere, and it wasn’t like he was going to ask for help with fixing it. Only one person on earth knew Jesse had kept it as a reminder of his own mortality, and she wouldn’t say a word. Miss Colomar knew how to keep a secret.

“He’s coming whether you like it or not.” Jesse almost groaned aloud. _And there’s the problem._ The source of his current stress.

Genji had invited his _brother_ into Overwatch.

“You sure this ain’t your other brother?” he murmured, feeling something akin to a gut punch when the ninja grinned and shook his head. He wasn’t wearing armour today, instead opting for a hoodie and sweatpants. _Probably to make_ Hanzo _feel more comfortable,_ Jesse thought, all but snarling at the idea.

“McCree, I am surprised at you. We have been friends for how long? And you still forget I only have one sibling?” Genji chuckled.

“How the hell are you so calm?” Giving up on the finicky thread between his fingers, Jesse quickly unpicked what he’d sewn, resolving to ask Lena for help later. She wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. He hoped.

Genji paused for a second before shrugging. “I’m not. In all honesty, I’m terrified. But if Zenyatta has taught me anything, it’s that I am the master of my own emotions. Besides, Hanzo is probably feeling worse.”

“Yeah… no matter what that master of yours says about forgiveness, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t extend to a guy like him.” Jesse sighed. “But if it’s what you want, I guess I’m supportive. I jus’ don’t like this, that’s all.”

“The fact that Hanzo even wants a relationship after everything is enough for me. And Jesse?” Genji took a deep breath. “Don’t forget that I tried to kill him too. I did not just lie there and allow myself to be hacked to pieces. He… he no longer has legs because of me.”

“Yeah but-,” Jesse was about to say something, when Athena’s calm voice echoed through the tannoy system, interrupting what would have probably turned out to be a very stupid statement.

“Attention all agents. The ETA for new recruits to Watchpoint: Gibraltar has changed. They will be disembarking in five minutes.”

A brief look of worry crossed over Genji’s face. It quickly gave way to excitement, and Jesse knew exactly what he was about to ask before his friend even opened his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m comin’.” After a moment of hesitation, he pocketed the ribbon before getting up. Frankly, he was going to need the comfort it provided to get through what was bound to become an awkward affair.

If Genji noticed, he didn’t mention it, altogether too keyed up on their quick journey over to the hangar. Jesse couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him. He so desperately wanted this to work, and if Hanzo was unwilling…

 _He may as well just kill him a second time over._ As soon as the words formed in his head, he realised just how wrong they were.

Jesse hoped. He’d become quite good at that recently.

The Orca had seemingly just touched down when they arrived, various new faces milling about. Some more familiar than others. That Korean gaming super-star whose streams Genji had tried to get him into was checking over a giant pink mech suit whilst in animated conversation with… Lúcio? _The_ Lúcio Correia dos Santos was _here?_

Jesse let out a low whistle of approval. Winston knew what he was doing enlisting celebrities. That kid knew a thing or two about good press. His social media presence was to be feared, and if Overwatch was going to become legit anytime soon…

He was about to mention this to Genji, but a glance down told him that was best left for later. His eyes were squarely trained on another figure, walking over at a slow pace.

“Hanzo…” he murmured softly, and Jesse could feel the pain in each syllable. The way his voice cracked and trailed off as that man came ever closer.

“I’m here bud. I’ll give y’all some space, but ‘m here” Gently knocking his shoulder against the shorter man, he took a few steps back, moving towards the overlook to light up a cigarillo.

Hanzo Shimada was about the same height as his brother, but that was where the similarity ended. He was stocky but well built, a windbreaker covering what Jesse assumed to be heavily muscled arms. When Genji had first come to Blackwatch, Jesse had looked the older Shimada up, wanting to be prepared if he ever came to finish the job. The long-haired regal scion was what he’d expected.

But it seemed the man was smart. He’d changed everything he could about his appearance, and now looked completely different to his younger self.

He had an undercut. And a bridge piercing. _And holy hell he’s attractive._

Jesse’s thoughts screeched to a standstill. _I did not just think that._ He swore under his breath, hand reaching instinctively for the ribbon in his pocket. The sensation of his thumb caressing the frayed edges helped somewhat, but the edge was still there.

_Well, he is attractive. Don’t mean I’m gonna act on it._

The man in question had finally reached Genji, and Jesse watched as his best friend smiled awkwardly, putting his flesh hand out to shake.

Hanzo simply stared, face expressionless.

“Shit,” Jesse muttered, dropping the cigarillo and reaching to touch peacekeeper. _I knew this was a bad idea._

His hand had barely brushed the metal when suddenly the elder Shimada dropped to his knees, head bowed, and hands fisted.

The hangar dropped into silence. Shooting a quick glance at Genji, Jesse found his face as perplexed as his own.

And then a voice, hoarse from emotion and disuse murmured “ _Gomennasai. Gomennasai, gomennasai, gomennasai.”_ The words became a mantra chanted again and again as Hanzo’s voice trailed off. His Japanese may have been a little rusty, but McCree understood. _I’m sorry._

Glancing up again, Jesse noticed Genji’s eyes were filling with tears.

Just as sudden as his brother, Genji fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around his now sobbing sibling, crying out the same word with just as much fervour.

The moment Hanzo’s shaking arms moved up in an embrace of his own, Jesse relaxed, moving his hands back to his pockets. Something was telling him everything was going to be fine.

And he believed it.

*

 _It has certainly been an eventful day,_ Hanzo thought as his brother poured out another cup of sake. They were sitting in what could only be described as a rec room, where various groups of agents were unwinding. He knew a few names, having met a couple of them on the flight. Hana and Lúcio, the pair that wouldn’t stop enthusing about how “totally awesome” his bow was, and how you “couldn’t even tell he was old” were sitting in front of a screen, playing some fast-paced video game. Their pilot (Tracer, she’d called herself) sat with them, practically bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm. Reinhardt, the giant of a man who’d nodded sagely when they’d been introduced and told him it was an “honourable” thing to do, coming here, was chatting to an attractive blonde woman whose smile seemed awfully tense.

He’d learnt that doctor Angela Ziegler had been the one to save his brother, and for that, Hanzo was truly thankful. He understood her reservation, understood that she might never talk to him. And truly, he deserved far worse. The fact that Genji even wanted him around was a miracle. _I am not worthy of this kindness. I am not even worthy of standing in the same room as-_

“ _Aniki!_ ” Genji’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Sheepishly, Hanzo turned to face his brother, fighting down the bile that threatened to rise at the sight of the slashes decorating his face.

“…Yes?” He seemed excited, although after their little… _display_ of emotion in the hangar that afternoon, Genji had been in a permanent state of almost euphoric glee. Hanzo didn’t know how the man could even bear to share the same name as him, let alone be happy to give a tour of his new home.

“I completely forgot to introduce you to someone.” He grinned, something vaguely mischievous dancing in his eyes. “I guarantee you’ll enjoy this, McCree is… quite the character.”

“McCree?” Hanzo scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Please tell me it is not that man who accompanied you this afternoon. The one with the-,”

“Cowboy hat?” Genji finished. “It is indeed. He also wears spurs.”

“I hope you are joking,” Hanzo smirked. “Although somehow I am not surprised.”

“He should be here soon. You can see for yourself.” He leaned forwards conspiratorially. “Jesse is my best friend, but even I think his fashion is tacky at best.”

 _Jesse McCree?_ His name was a stereotype in itself.

“Well howdy,” a deep voice rumbled from behind him. Hanzo glanced around, but even Genji’s warning was not enough.

The man behind him was tall; at least six foot, and well over with the height of the Stetson he wore taken into account. And dear God, did the man have to wear a _serape_ at all times? He was about to respond, but the snarky comment died on the tip of his tongue when McCree met his eyes.

Because the moment he saw that face, he knew.

A quick glance at the man’s left arm only proved it.

“Oh, Lena?” He called to over to the excitable pilot. “I forgot to ask, can you fix somethin’ for me?”

She sighed but hopped up off the sofa and over to McCree. “What is it, love?”

“I was wonderin’ if you could fix this up. It’s got a bit frayed recently, and it means a lot to me.”

After everything that had happened that day, Hanzo shouldn’t have been surprised. But without a shadow of a doubt, that was _his ribbon_ McCree had just pulled out of his pocket.

Fate loved to play games with him.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd just put down chapter 2 while I was at it. Expect more soon!


	3. A Ribbon of Loss

“I’ll take a look, see what I can do!” Lena chirped, pocketing the ribbon. Jesse relaxed. _That was a helluva lot less awkward than it could’a been._

“Thanks doll.” Pulling out a chair, he sat next to Genji.

“What was all that about?” The ninja grinned slyly. “Tore a hole in your chaps?”

“Now I know you’re messin’ with me.” Reaching for the hip flask he’d brought along, Jesse took a deep drink. The whiskey was cheap and acrid-scented, but without the thin strip of fabric he felt more uneasy than usual. It would help take the edge off new introductions. “Like I said, it’s somethin’ that means a lot t’ me.”

Jesse turned his attention back to the men at the table. Genji was lolling in his chair, a lazy smile plastered over his scarred face and a cup of sake in one hand. It seemed things were going well enough for the pair to be drinking together. Hanzo on the other hand… Jesse gulped.

He sat ramrod straight, a light, rosy blush decorating his cheeks. It was undoubtedly from the drink he held, but somehow the whole image was just… _cute,_ his mind supplied. He shook himself and extended a hand to the man.

“Hanzo, is it? Welcome to Overwatch. I’m Jesse McCree.” And then on a whim, he added: “Your brother’s been real excited about ya finally getting here.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then before Jesse even had the chance to register the motion, he drained the glass of sake in one.

“Genji,” his voice rumbled out, not as hoarse as it was in the hangar, but a gruffness remained nonetheless. “You claim this man is your ‘best friend’?”

“That is right, brother.” A furrow appeared on Genji’s brow.

Hanzo smirked, although with a slightly unpleasant edge that made no sense. “Then surely he should know enough about our culture to realise calling me by my first name is a major transgression.”

Genji looked puzzled for a moment, then laughed. He murmured something in Japanese that Jesse didn’t catch, to which Hanzo shook his head. It seemed as if a small eternity passed before it finally hit him.

“Ah, shit. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding _Shimada-san_. Genji has been just Genji for as long as I’ve known him, an’ I honestly forgot about the whole honorifics thing.”

“That is evident.” Pushing away from the table, Hanzo moved to stand. “Now if you will excuse me, I have bags to unpack. Good evening, brother. McCree.” He almost cringed at the word, turning to move at such a pace it looked as if he couldn’t wait to get away.

It wasn’t until Jesse heard Hana murmur: “Oh, uncle Hanzo’s turning in already?” that he realised what was going on.

Hanzo Shimada hated him, and he had no clue why.

*

_The universe has cursed me,_ Hanzo thought bitterly as he searched for another handhold in the jagged rock face. He had believed that coming out to the cliffside would help clear his mind a little, but instead he’d ended up 200 feet above the sea with his thoughts swirling like the turbulent waves below.

It wasn’t McCree’s fault they’d been thrown together again, but frankly he needed no reminders of that day. He’d been in a very dark place when the incident occurred, and despite not having any regrets for saving the man, there were some things he wished would remain in the past. He wasn’t particularly open to discussing what exactly he’d been doing there either, and it was better that his previous contracts were not discussed. Not here, anyway.

Reaching the top of the precipice, Hanzo called on every muscle he had to heave himself over the edge, cursing as his mechanical knees protested with loud groans of their own. It had been a while since they’d had a proper tune-up, and their age was beginning to show.

“You might want to get those seen to.” An unknown female voice said.

It was a little too late that Hanzo realised his bow lay at the bottom of the cliff, still unpacked in his quarters. His hand to hand combat was outstanding, however if the speaker was armed… Head snapping up to face the source of the words, he could not quite believe what he saw.

A petite woman sat on a deckchair, polishing an impressive looking sniper rifle. She was old, features weathered, but still fine and sharp. A distinctive tattoo curled beneath her left eye, the other covered by a patch. She chuckled at his tense stance, waving for him to take a seat on what appeared to be a beach blanket.

“Relax. I’m not here to kill you. If I had been,” her tone dropped. “You’d already be dead.”

Hanzo didn’t know if that was meant to be reassuring, but he sat anyway, somewhat happy to be taking a breather after the climb.

“You are Hanzo Shimada, correct?” she asked, gently laying the rifle down in order to pick up a Thermos.

“Who is asking?”

She looked impassive for a second before shrugging. “You may call me Shrike. I am a member of Overwatch, the same as you.”

“Shrike,” he murmured pensively. The name was familiar. “The bounty hunter from Egypt?”

“The same.” Seemingly from nowhere, she produced two china cups, patterned with pink roses. Pouring from her flask, she filled both with what Hanzo assumed to be tea and passed one to him. Hanzo would normally refuse such an offer for fear of poison, but as Shrike had said, if she’d wanted him dead...

“I see you have joined our ranks. What brings you here?”

He took a mouthful before answering. It was good tea, and the cold wind would soon make it undrinkable. Hanzo was not one to waste such a delightful beverage.

“I have come to start again. You know my name, so I am sure you know what I have done.”

Shrike made a noise of agreement as she sipped. “So not only to reconnect with Genji?”

“I came at his request. He does not deserve to be saddled with me further, however Genji has insisted my presence will make him happier.”

“But you do not agree.”

Hanzo had to think about that for a moment. “I hope he is right. I have missed him, and although my slate will never be wiped clean, I…”

“You want to have a relationship again.”

_Yes,_ his thoughts screamed. _I want my brother back. I want to have family again. I want a life._ Face carefully blank, he nodded.

Shrike sighed, and for a second, it was as if she was looking right through him, one wise eye staring deep into his soul. Then, she smiled.

“Nobody deserves to be alone.” Seeing the doubt cloud his face, she snapped back: “You are not the only one in this world to have done terrible things, Shimada. I have a list twice as long as yours, and every day I add to it. Your brother, he is not as innocent as you want to fool yourself into thinking. And in this world, that is _good._ ” She paused before continuing in a gentler tone. “Nobody deserves to be alone. So make it count.”

The outburst stunned Hanzo a little, but he tried not to let it show. A fruitless endeavour before one so perceptive, but he was a proud man.

“You speak from experience.”

“I do.” Shrike’s face turned wistful. “And now I cannot return to where I once was. You, on the other hand, have a choice.”

“But-,” she cut him off.

“A decade ago, I would have told you to leave now. To never come back, because the people you love – or person, rather – would suffer if you did. Now…” She took another sip, letting the dregs of tea swirl in the cup. “Now I would tell you to return before it is too late.”

Neither spoke for a while; wind and the clinking of cups becoming the only sounds until Hanzo cleared his throat.

“Thank you for the tea. And the wise advice.”

“But you must be going.” Shrike smiled, taking his empty cup and putting it… _somewhere._

“How did you do…” He was at a loss for words.

“Do what?” Her smirk grew as he could not answer. “Now I recommend that you take the North path back. It is a little longer, but really you should have Torbjörn take a look at those knees of yours before climbing again.” He nodded, moving to look down the admittedly _much_ more gentle decline. “And should you decide you are in need of some peace and quiet, and tea of course, I will find you.”

Her words were ominous indeed, but as Hanzo turned back to thank her once more, he found that Shrike had vanished. Only the deck chair and blanket remained.

Hours later, as he lay in his uncomfortable bunk, her words echoed back at him. _Nobody deserves to be alone. Return before it’s too late._

She wasn’t only referring to Genji.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's something a little different. Introducing my favourite character in Overwatch. Let's just wait and see what happens now.  
> P.S. I wanted to apologise for the appalling grammar and word repeats in the last chapter. All of this is un-beta'd, and I proofread everything myself because my writing hours are not exactly healthy. I think everything on this fic has been written between the hours of 1-5am on different days haha  
> Until next time *^^*


	4. A Ribbon of Dust

_Why are you doing this?_

The words stuck out in Reaper’s head, making him start a little. He didn’t know how they’d got there. After all, he knew what he was doing and why. He _enjoyed_ it. Talon purely gave him the means to act.

Releasing the body he held to the floor, he took a moment to examine its face. Purple and bloated, eyes bulging out of their sockets. It hadn’t been a peaceful death, the life forcibly choked from the man’s throat as per direction.

But something in his expression was making Reaper angry. Not the normal cold fury he carried everywhere either. It was hot, lava running under the skin.

_Why are you doing this?_

He knew what he was doing. But the reason why was becoming unclear.

Stalking over to the door, he raised one clawed digit to his ear, clicking the comm on again.

“Requesting extraction,” Reaper growled. The Talon pilot replied in a single word, as they’d always done. Barely anyone spoke more than necessary to him anymore. Well, barring Sombra, although her infernal chit-chat had reduced in recent weeks. He’d assumed she was hiding from that terrible mistake of a jumper he’d received over Christmas. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the ugly birds adorning the cardigan were somewhat endearing. He missed her, and had promised to have a talk with Akande about a recon mission together.

 _You should ask her why you’re doing this,_ a small voice in his head supplied.

Reaper paused then shrugged. It wouldn’t do any harm, he supposed. And then _maybe_ his own thoughts would stop being so…

Confusing.

*

“Attention all agents; the Orca to Marrakesh will be departing in T-minus fifteen minutes. If you are scheduled on this mission, please make your way to…”

The rest of Athena’s speech melted into the chatter of the hangar. Hanzo was boarding as she spoke, adrenaline fresh in his veins.

A mission. _Exactly_ what he’d been waiting for, familiar territory at last.

He’d been lingering on base for two weeks now, waiting for something to come up. Hanzo knew there were protocols to be met before sending out new agents, but he hadn’t really thought too much about it when signing up. As it turned out, the vast majority of it had been sitting in meetings, with one combat simulation and a medical.

Hanzo had made good use of his time whilst waiting, spending lengthy periods training with his brother. Genji had been overjoyed by his offer, and it felt good to work together again; the two falling into an old rhythm.

Of course, they had both improved massively in the last few years, adapting their fighting styles to fit needs as they arose. Gone were the strict teachings of their childhood sensei.

It came as a surprise when on the first day Hanzo had thrown what he’d initially thought to be an underhanded move, and Genji had parried. He’d fallen backwards, left sprawling on the floor with a mixture of shock and pride filling his heart.

It was becoming more and more obvious that his brother had matured much in the time they’d spent apart. Hanzo had climbed to his feet, wiped the sweat from his brow and returned to the fight with a broad grin.

Fighting training aside, Hanzo found his integration into the team to be equal parts pleasant and an insurmountable task. Hana and Lúcio were easy enough to get along with, despite their instance to call him ‘Uncle Hanzo’. He’d fought them on it, but the duo had mastered the art of puppy-dog eyes. He’d even ended up apologising to _them_ for emotional distress, giving a small lesson in archery as payment. _Genius manipulators, both of them,_ Hanzo thought with more than a little pride. Surprisingly, Hana had been an excellent student, drawing a small crowd as she hit the target relatively consistently. Lúcio… well, he’d tried. He’d even got a round of applause when a wayward arrow finally reached its mark.

Certain members remained distant, however. Dr Ziegler had reluctantly cleared him for field work, although the meeting itself had been pained. It seemed she couldn’t wait to get him out the door. It was probably going to be a while before she spoke to him without a note of disgust in her voice.

Hanzo understood. Then, he’d seen her with Genji, and somehow everything made a little more sense. He’d asked his brother how they’d become so close, more curious as to if anything more than friendship was going on.

Genji had laughed it off. They were purely friends, nothing more, but she had seen him at his worst and helped him recover. Of course they were close.

Then in an unwanted turn, Genji had asked about McCree. Hanzo still had no idea what to do about the man.

He’d tried, he really had. But every time the cowboy had ambled over to chat, a rush of embarrassment threatened to make him blurt out something stupid, and Hanzo had quickly excused himself.

Strangely enough, this was a matter he did not feel comfortable talking to his brother about. Instead, he’d taken to meeting with Shrike fairly regularly to discuss things. She always had good quality tea, much better than the weak, flavourless stuff they kept on base. He wondered where she was getting it, but frankly so much about the woman was a mystery, it wouldn’t surprise him if it just magically appeared whenever she so desired it.

He’d found out through various overheard conversations that Shrike was somewhat of a cryptid on base. He’d walked in on Tracer recounting ‘sightings’ to his brother, the two deep in theories about where she even slept. Apparently, the woman wore a mask around base and only ever came out for missions, preferring the company of nature above the other operatives.

Hanzo didn’t say a word. He was not one to destroy another’s privacy. Besides, she’d never invite him back for tea if he did.

“Hiya Uncle Hanzo!”

Hana’s shrill voice snapped him out of his musings. He looked up to see the young woman seated on top of her mech in the ship, Brigitte handing her tools from below. She was running pre-mission checks, realigning the left fusion cannon to match the right. He remembered she’d knocked it out of position slightly on their last simulation.

Hanzo gave them both a small wave. “Greetings. I was not aware you were on this mission.”

“Yeah!” Hana gave the pink paint a satisfied pat before hopping down. “Reinhardt said newbies get partnered with a veteran first few times, and usually they don’t take more than two of us at once.”

“Hmm.” It certainly made sense. The new Overwatch was very keen on keeping casualties down, which obviously was for the best. That being said, having a babysitter was a little…

He was distracted when Dr Ziegler strode past, almost knocking into his shoulder on her way to the cockpit. _She’s coming too?_ Hanzo sighed. Today was about to get much harder.

“You wouldn’t happen to know who my partner is, would you?” he asked quietly, hoping for once fate was on his side and the angry angel would leave him alone.

Brigitte laughed. “Aww, don’t worry. There’s a class system in place so you work with people that suit your fighting style. I’m Angela’s support.”

Hanzo’s relief was short-lived as a broad hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Howdy there, _partner,_ ”

It made perfect sense. The leader board in the simulation chamber registered Hanzo as second place, losing out at a very narrow margin to Jesse McCree.

He slowly turned around, cracking what he knew was a weak, vaguely maddened smile to the grinning cowboy.

The Orca’s door began to slide shut, and McCree exhaled sharply. “Just made it. If I’d spent thirty seconds more getting’ coffee this mornin’…”

Hanzo tried to melt into the floor. Unfortunately, humans can’t do that, so he just ended up sagging slightly like a depressed plastic bag.

*

Jesse took a deep drink from the water pack Brigitte handed him. They’d been walking for a while now, the dust clogging his throat and making it hard to breathe. It was only a simple recon mission in adverse conditions to test the new recruits’ mettle. They’d landed just outside Marrakesh, a deserted Blackwatch facility their goal. It lay ten miles to the east, and part of the mission was a stealthy approach. Winston suspected there was nothing of use there, but it was always useful to run missions to old bases. Just in case.

Angela had read the mission statement and weather report to them whilst in transit to various reactions. Hana clapped her hands in delight, happy that she was finally going to have the opportunity to test her new air-con in a non-urban setting. Reinhardt was less pleased, but he wasn’t really one to voice his concerns. The rest of them… well, McCree didn’t really mind the heat. It wasn’t that much warmer than Gibraltar, but in combat gear (or armour) it certainly wasn’t pleasant. The dust was another matter.

He peeked at Hanzo through the haze. The man had spent a little while in thought after the briefing. Jesse had thought he was nervous, but moments later that thought was proved wrong. He’d reached into his pack and pulled out a bundle of cloth, disappearing into the back of the ship for a few moments before reappearing a different man.

It seemed Hanzo liked to be prepared. He was wearing essentially khaki fatigues with a scarf tied over his mouth and nose and bow slung over his shoulder. If he’d ever thought otherwise, Jesse had no doubt now that the man before him was indeed a trained assassin. As they moved through the barren landscape, he had to remind himself that Hanzo was even there. He made no sound, not even coughing as the wind threw a barrage of dust at the group.

 _Of course he’s not coughin’, that mask ain’t just for show._ Jesse wished he’d had the presence of mind to bring something similar. His serape only did so much, the fabric too thick to putt up and over his face.

They were almost inside the facility’s compound when Hanzo barked a harsh “Stop,” into his comm.

“What is it?” Brigitte replied.

“Hover truck coming up on our 10. Might have seen us.”

Jesse pulled his binoculars from a loop on his belt and peered into the distance. Sure enough, there was a large vehicle approaching through the compound itself. _Nobody is supposed to be out here._ He had no doubt that whoever it was had spotted them, a giant pink mech tends to stand out a little no matter where you are. And then his blood ran cold.

_Shit._

“The driver’s in Talon uniform. Reinhardt?”

“Do not worry, friend.” The knight raised his left arm, ready to summon up a barrier at a moment’s notice. “If they fire, you are safe.”

Angela and Brigitte filed into the area of safety behind him. Shooting a quick glance at Hanzo, he found the man still staring at the oncoming truck, eyes narrowed in concentration. It had just passed the first building, a minute longer and it would be on them.

“Hanzo!”

“… I can make the shot,” he replied firmly.

McCree considered their options. The vehicle was definitely headed towards them now. _It will either work, or it won’t,_ he thought. _Worst case scenario it runs into us…_

“Do it,” he muttered.

Hanzo nodded, unblinking gaze still fixed on the distant driver. After yanking the scarf off his face, he pulled the bow from his shoulder and nocked an arrow. Breathing steadily, waiting. But Jesse knew it was too far, the windshield too much of a distracting factor for a clear shot.

There was no way Hanzo would hit the target.

And then the archer ceased to breathe. Silence consumed the group, no one daring to disrupt his concentration. The world was still for one long second, only broken by the release. The arrow sang as it flew through the air before a distant shatter sounded. Reaching for his binoculars, Jesse found he wouldn’t need them after all, the truck veering off violently to the left and crashing into a building. He looked anyway.

The windshield was broken in one concentrated spot, arrow nowhere to be seen. It appeared to have gone straight through, and at that angle the driver would have to have been very lucky to survive.

“Clean shot,” he murmured.

“Expect nothing less.” Jesse could have sworn he saw the ghost of a smile on Hanzo’s face before his normal scowl descended again.

“Why on earth was a Talon operative here?” Angela stepped out from behind Reinhardt, hand clutched tightly around her pistol.

“I don’t know, but we need to get outta here fast. Hana, radio-,”

The rest of his words were cut off by an ear-splitting screech. An alarm of some sort rang through the base, deafening Jesse who suddenly realised they weren’t alone anymore.

A small platoon of Talon soldiers poured out of a building, some taking stock of the crashed car, the others charging directly at the group.

Jesse drew his gun, pushing down the fear that threatened to overtake rational thought. He glimpsed Hanzo nocking another arrow beside him, drawing it back and waiting for a command. He hoped the two new recruits were indeed as combat ready as their scores in the simulations led him to believe. Fighting through this mess and coming out unscathed would be difficult enough for fully trained agents, let alone the group assembled. But Hana had fought battles for her country, and Hanzo… well, he’d more than proved himself with that shot.

Feeling the familiar sensation of Angela’s damage boost, Jesse pulled his hat down slightly and grinned.

“Howdy fellas,” he murmured to no one in particular. “Looks like we got ourselves a party.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be on a bit of a roll here... important things happen in the next two chapters, things that have already happened in An Honest Mistake. I'm excited....  
> Has anyone noticed Hanzo hasn't spoken Japanese around Jesse yet? I wonder if that's gonna be important soon...  
> Until next time *^^*


	5. A Ribbon of Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick tw, I added a tag for emotional/psychological abuse for this chapter and the next. Just so you know.

Hanzo had never fought like this before. Assassination was a quiet art and his particular discipline usually kept him a fair distance from targets. That wasn’t to say his skills at close range lacked, but it was rare that he fought with groups who actually knew where he was attacking from.

This was different. The second McCree had called to fire, he’d shot three men right off the bat with a well-placed scatter arrow. At this range he’d have to do the most damage to as many soldiers as possible and just hope it slowed the wave even a little. Hanzo also knew that his ammunition was extremely limited, meaning he couldn’t just fire constantly.

As the horde approached however, he realised that probably wasn’t going to be an issue. McCree had done more than his fair share of work already; bodies falling wherever he pointed his gun.

“It’s about ta get a helluva lot more crowded,” the man muttered, reloading with a brief flick. “Everybody ready?”

“Just try and stop me!” Hana sounded confident enough, but there was a slight wobble to her voice that made Hanzo remember just how young she really was.

And then he had no time to think because the crowd was upon them.

It quickly became apparent that these were simply unskilled grunts who had been handed a gun and told to fire forwards. Hanzo almost sighed in relief as he plunged an arrow into an exposed neck. The comms had lit up a while ago to inform them that evac would be there soon and to just hang on until then. He hadn’t sustained any major injuries yet, but every now and again he felt a warmth pass over him. Dr Ziegler, no doubt. It was mildly pleasant, each time making him feel like he could do _more._

Hana was holding her own, mowing through a few unlucky souls who’d broken off from the main group. Her mech was looking a little worse for wear, but it was nothing too serious. He’d lost sight of Brigitte and Reinhardt, but if the occasional scream and flying mercenary were anything to go by, they were doing fine.

Suddenly, Hanzo felt someone brush up against his shoulder. Instinct overtook, but thankfully seconds before he stabbed them in the face, faded red and gold caught his eye. _McCree._

“On your six,” the man growled, turning to lob a flashbang directly into the face of an assailant who was about to take advantage of his moment of distraction. The shot followed almost instantaneously; one neat hole in the skull felling the grunt.

Embarrassment bubbled up. “I am able to take care of myself.” As if to demonstrate, Hanzo drew back his bow and took out McCree’s next target before he even had a chance to aim.

“Hey!” Hanzo smirked. The cowboy was remarkably easy to infuriate as it turned out.

“Make your own kills before I take them from you.” The words were without heat, but something sparked in McCree’s eye.

“Oh, you got yourself a challenge now!” In an impromptu move, he rolled in front of Hanzo, blocking his line of sight as he took another shot.

“Really? It will not be difficult to best you.”

“What’s got ya so confident, darlin’?” Ignoring the fact McCree had just called him ‘darling’ of all things (he sort of owed it to the man really after insisting on a dead name when they met to be petty), the archer pulled out his last scatter arrow, nocked it and let fly. The final four men fell to the floor, earning him a low whistle from the cowboy. “Not bad, but ya missed one.”

Hanzo turned, gaze murderous. One of the group was clawing up to his feet, the arrows having only grazed him.

“ _Chikushō,_ ” he muttered, taking one big step forwards as the mercenary began to charge closer. Knocking the gun from his hands, he ducked under an oncoming punch only to pull back up and land a heavy kick to the sternum. Staggering backwards and gasping for air, the man didn’t see his punch coming.

“Should’a stayed down,” McCree chuckled as knuckles met cartilage. “Not a smart move.” He fell with a heavy thud.

“He works for Talon,” Hanzo deadpanned, shaking his hand out and hissing at the familiar sting. “That does not make him a smart man.”

“Touché.” Firing off a few final shots before holstering his gun, the cowboy grinned. “Who knew you had a sense of humour.”

He frowned and was about to make a snarky comment on McCree’s idea of what constitutes as a joke, when Reinhardt’s worried voice called out over the comms.

“Has anyone seen Angela?”

*

_Shit._ Jesse scanned the area surrounding them for a glimpse of her. A cursory glance revealed the blonde was not amongst the fallen either, which was only slightly reassuring.

“Not with me an’ Hanzo. Hana?”

“Nuh-uh.” The connection was staticky, unusually so. “Requesting a little backup, the north is still overrun and my mech is… won’t hold toge…”

“There’s only a limited time until the ship gets here,” Jesse murmured before taking charge again. “Reinhardt and Brigitte, assist Hana, you’re closest and she may need medical. We’ll look for Ange.”

A chorus of “Rodger!” filled the line before it went dead again, leaving the two in silence.

_I really hope the kid is ok. Angela too._ Jesse rubbed a hand over his face thinking about where to begin. The ribbon burning a hole in his pocket tempted, but he resisted. It was not the time.

“We should start in the plaza to the West,” Hanzo muttered, taking a large stride in that direction.

“W-woah!” It was a sudden response, and not one he’d been expecting. “How’re you so certain?”

“Because the last time I felt her heal me was there.” He carried on walking. “Unless you would rather split up, which would be foolish under the circumstances, follow me.”

Jesse stood, stunned for a moment, before jogging to catch up with the archer. “Ya remembered that?”

“Yes. It is unwise not to keep track of one’s friends and foes in a fight, especially when you have been taken by surprise.”

There was an awful lot of truth in his statement, but one word stuck out more than the others.

“Soo…” Jesse drawled, nervously repositioning his hat. “Ya consider me a friend?”

Hanzo paused. He appeared to be thinking something over, the tension building until it felt like a boundary had been overstepped.

“I mean it’s fine if ya don’t, we ain’t really had that much time ta get to know each other, but I jus’ thought with everything bein’ as it was-,”

“I do not consider you a friend.” The archer cut through his ramblings with a voice edged in steel.

_Oh._ Jesse couldn’t help feeling a surge of disappointment. His eyes returned to scanning the area, trying to concentrate more on finding Angela rather than the rising tide of discomfort. Hanzo had made it clear they weren’t friends. He’d started to believe otherwise as he hadn’t been reprimanded for using the man’s first name recently, although everyone else on base was permitted to use it freely. Was he really that detestable? Was he really not worth-

“But I would like to be.” The words were a surprise, and as Jesse’s eyes snapped back, he noticed that Hanzo was blushing, the tip of his nose slightly pink with an equal dusting over his cheeks. “I… have not been altogether accommodating to you since arriving, and I would like to apologise. Certain things have arisen, and I have not been able to deal with them. I would like to get to know you better, even if it is just to ease our cooperation. I… _understand_ if you have objections-,”

“None at all,” Jesse was quick to answer, not wanting to give the wrong impression. “I jus’… well hell, it’s understandable that you ain’t been yourself, it’s not been easy comin’ here.”

They had slowed to a standstill by that point, Hanzo still stubbornly staring forwards, refusing to make eye contact. He looked conflicted, some unknown emoting warring on his face.

Just as it seemed the man would speak, the silence was shattered by a piercing scream resonating from the plaza.

“Angela.” Jesse felt his limbs begin to move, and suddenly, he was running. The shriek had been pained, sounding more like one of injury than shock. That worried him immensely.

He could hear Hanzo behind him, footsteps barely audible as they ran over the dust. It was slightly reassuring, but unknowing what they were running into, he wasn’t exactly sure whether to be relieved or not.

The footsteps ceased just before Jesse burst into the plaza, gun drawn and ready. He quickly realised why, and with that revelation came the knowledge that Peacekeeper would do him no good here.

Because there were ten guns trained on him.

And a knife to Angela’s throat.

But the main reason was the hand that held the knife. Long, slender fingers, with the most intimidating nails he’d ever seen. The second he saw her, he knew there was no use fighting. She’d already won.

“Moira,” Jesse growled.

Her insufferable smirk grew. “Jesse McCree! How nice of you to join us. Now, if you wouldn’t mind...?”

He huffed before bending over to put his gun on the floor. Using the opportunity to glance behind, he noticed Hanzo was nowhere to be seen. _Probably saw what was goin’ on and hightailed it to the others’,_ he thought. _Good job if he did._

The closest soldier to him dashed over, picking up Peacekeeper before roughly cuffing his wrists.

“Ouch. Careful there!” He grumbled. The man only pulled harder, sneer visible through his visor.

“Please do take care with our guest,” Moira said smugly as he was half-dragged over.

Forced down onto his knees, Jesse shot Angela a reassuring glance. She looked generally ok, except for a graze on her left cheek. “Y’alright?” He murmured.

She nodded, scared blue eyes staring back at him. “It-it’s all my fault,” she whimpered.

“Nah.” Jesse nudged her with his shoulder. “They got the drop on you. I’m just surprised _she’s_ here.”

“No.” Her voice was almost bitter. “I… she…”

“Shush Angela.” Moira’s grip on the knife tightened, pressing it into her neck. “He doesn’t have to know everything now, does he.”

“I don’t know what kinda game you’re playin’, but Talon don’t take kindly ta thieves.” Jesse was talking nonsense, he knew. Just anything to delay whatever the woman was planning.

She laughed. “Game? Oh Jesse, you truly believe I have time for that sort of frivolity?” Her voice lowered. “You’ve become dull without Blackwatch. Such a shame.”

She released Angela, the woman sagging in relief before tensing up as another cold metal brushed her ear.

“Now I’m going to kill you both,” Moira murmured. “And your last thoughts are going to be that you died on a fruitless mission for an organisation that doesn’t care for its agents.”

“What, ya mean like Talon cares for you?” Jesse spat out.

“Oho! For that…” she pulled the gun away from Angela, instead lying it to rest against the back of his skull. “… you’ll go first.”

_Ah,_ Jesse thought, training his eyes on a small rock lying a few feet away. To be completely honest, this was not how he’d imagined it would end. Gun and desolate environment, yes. Moira, no. Unfortunately, the woman was smart, not falling for his attempt to get her monologuing. But at least he’d cleared things up with Hanzo. He wouldn’t have anything extra hanging on his conscience now.

It was enough to make him smile as he shut his eyes.

He heard the words first this time. Honestly, Jesse had thought it had all been his imagination before, but all of a sudden, brilliant blue light seared from behind his closed lids as a voice cried out, almost drowned in a great roar.

“ _Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!_ ”

_It really was Japanese,_ Jesse mused, feeling the chill consuming him. The same angel as last time. But what did it matter. He was dead after all.

There was, however, one lingering thought that would not leave him, even as frozen lightning prickled over his skin. _S’ funny, now I think about it, that angel sounds an awful lot like Hanzo._

_Wait._

_Hanzo?_

The moment he realised, Jesse opened his eyes. It was still blue, shimmering, spiralling blue, but the closer he looked, the more definition was revealed.

The light had scales. And teeth.

And when it abruptly ended, it wasn’t the dead bodies that surrounded him, or Angela frozen in shock by his side that demanded his attention.

It was Hanzo, standing scared before them, bow in hand and mouth moving with words he could not hear.

It had always been Hanzo.

_Goddamn. We’ve got to stop meeting like this._

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess the reveal was a little overdue... I hope Hanzo is a bit more chill than he has been in previous chapters about the possibility of Jesse knowing.  
> And why does Angela blame herself for what happened? (If you've read An Honest Mistake, you'll probably already know XD)  
> Buuuuuuut that doesn't stop me from being a bitch about it.  
> And I love Moira, I really do. But I really wanted her to be a villain here because come on, she's amazingly evil >:)  
> Until next time *^^*  
> P.S. Side note, the swear word used by Hanzo isn't really a common one, but he's like practically royalty lol. Also Jesse didn't hear him mutter it.


	6. Change

He felt useless.

Hanzo hissed a curse as he watched a soldier slap cuffs onto McCree’s wrists. It should have been him. He was the faster runner, only straying behind because of how sudden the cowboy had taken off, moving like a man possessed.

He had seen the plaza, seen the guns and Dr Ziegler seconds before crashing through and had fallen back with no time to call out a warning.

And now Talon had two of his team at their mercy.

He had found a decent hiding spot, a low wall providing cover whilst still allowing him to hear and sneak the occasional glance. The red-haired woman had both captives on their knees before her, soldiers still clasping their guns. But the plaza was small; a narrow courtyard with no easy exits along the sides. They had chosen it so no one could sneak up on the group. All who entered were funnelled through narrow alleys placed at either end.

_Smart,_ he thought. _But not smart enough._

Hanzo could feel his senses begin to heighten. The dragons that hungered beneath his skin called out to be released, to consume all those who threatened. They would have to wait for a moment however. The knife at Dr Ziegler’s throat still remained.

So he listened.

“I don’t know what kinda game you’re playin’, but Talon don’t take kindly ta thieves.” McCree snarled. He was obviously goading the woman, trying to draw her attention away from the doctor.

“Game? Oh Jesse, you truly believe I have time for that sort of frivolity? You’ve become dull without Blackwatch. Such a shame.” Hanzo didn’t understand what she was talking about, but the cowboy’s ploy seemed to be working. That was until she continued. “Now I’m going to kill you both. And your last thoughts are going to be that you died on a fruitless mission for an organisation that doesn’t care for its agents.”

Risking a peek, Hanzo saw that the woman had finally put down the knife. She had replaced it with a gun.

It was good enough. Better, but not optimal, she could still pull the trigger in shock. He just prayed she wouldn’t.

Drawing an arrow, Hanzo aimed for the centre of the wall. _Please work._

He heard McCree goading her further. She responded, but he could no longer hear the words over the heartbeat pounding in his ears. The dragons were roaring, bellowing for blood.

“ _Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!_ ”

He released and cerulean lightning burst from the arrow to fill the courtyard. _Yes,_ they screamed. _Feed us. Let us consume, let us devour all those who oppose you._ And as per usual, Hanzo felt everything. Each inch of his dragons’ bodies connected to his own, one and the same. If he hadn’t been so concerned for his teammates, Hanzo would have revelled in the feeling far longer, but as things stood, he simply had to act. With electricity and fire still pumping through his veins, he sprang over the low wall just in time to see a figure materialise near one of the alleyways.

It was _her_. The red-haired woman had somehow escaped, fading out of existence to avoid the same fate as her troops. She stood, head cocked to one side in quizzical amusement. After a half-beat of silence, her eyes widened, and a grin swept over her fine features. Before Hanzo could so much as nock another arrow, she was gone.

“Coward,” he bit out before turning to the scene that lay before him.

Dr Ziegler was staring at him, shock and a hint of relief written plain as day across her face. She trembled, something that at that distance should not have been noticeable. _The sooner the evac ship arrives, the better,_ Hanzo thought, more than a little concerned for her wellbeing. Then he heard McCree murmur, and suddenly that worry was eclipsed by something far more terrifying.

“Goddamn. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It was as if the world slowed, stretching the moment ten times longer than it should have been. Hanzo could feel his pulse pick up, heartbeat sounding in his ears as he tried desperately to think. To be completely honest, it didn’t seem like the cowboy knew he’d said the words aloud, rather that the shock of… well, _everything_ , had rendered him incapable of distinguishing between speech and thought.

A lesser man may not have grasped what McCree meant. But despite the situation having taken its toll, Hanzo was well aware of what had transpired.

McCree knew. Or at least, thought he knew. More than anything, _Hanzo_ knew he wasn’t ready to answer for anything.

Raising a hand to his communicator, he spoke quickly, not wanting to waste any time. “Hanzo reporting in. We have located Dr Ziegler in the westmost plaza of the compound.”

Reinhardt’s response was quick. “Copy. Is she alright?”

Taking a moment to tear his eyes from the bewildered cowboy, Hanzo glanced at her. Ziegler’s cheek was grazed, the edges red and swollen as if her face had been slammed into the dirt. The shock still remained, as expected, but there was something else in her expression that worried him immensely. He’d recognise that look anywhere, having seen it on his own features many times before. An unmistakeable aura of guilt.

Dropping his bow to his side, Hanzo rushed over to the pair. Their hands were cuffed behind their backs, the key nowhere in the immediate vicinity. He knelt down, taking stock of their bonds. _Basic double lock handcuffs. I would have thought Talon could afford something better._

“Are you alright?” he murmured to the medic.

Dr Ziegler nodded, eyes glassy as she turned to look at him. “Sh-she took the keys.” Her voice wavered, breaking painfully and Hanzo vowed to ask no more questions than necessary. Deliberately keeping his gaze trained on the cuffs, he dug in his pocket for one of the bobby pins he knew resided there.

“I believe she is mostly unharmed.” _Physically, at least._ “A situation occurred, and both Dr Ziegler and McCree were restrained. I will attempt to release them before the evac ship arrives.” He remembered something, a spike of concern for the youngest of the group shooting through him. “Did you locate Hana?”

“I’m fine!” The MEKA pilot’s voice piped up, quashing his worries immediately. “Didn’t even have to bail. Brigitte helped me do some quick repairs so I’m good until we get back. But more important than that, you know how to pick locks??”

Hanzo sighed as he removed the plastic from the end of the pin before gently taking Dr Ziegler’s hands in his. “Yes, Hana. It is the type of skill one acquires when working for the wrong side. Maybe I shall teach you after this is over.” At the exact moment he freed the doctor’s hands, a quiet jingle and thud caught Hanzo’s attention. _Ah._ McCree was sheepishly rubbing his wrists, cuffs abandoned behind him.

“Yer not the only one who learnt a thing or two working for the wrong side.” It was quiet, the words almost too low, but Hanzo caught them.

For now, all that mattered was getting back to Gibraltar in one piece. He’d think on those words, and the oncoming awkwardness later.

*

After making a fool of himself through the stares and open-mouthed gaping after their timely rescue, Jesse had been so busy helping Angela back to the ship that not another word had transpired between them. Once there, Hanzo had scurried off to talk to Hana. Even through his shocked stupor earlier, Jesse had heard the concern in the archer’s voice when he’d asked about the teen. It looked like he wanted to be certain that she was alright. It seemed Hanzo was becoming a parental figure for some of the younger ones on base. Not that he’d specifically been paying attention mind you, but word got around.

Jesse also realised pretty quickly that his prompt disappearance had been to give Angela some breathing room. No sooner had he rushed away from the med cot they’d insisted she take, the blonde’s eyes had begun to water. A conversation with Hanzo would happen, but later. For now, he was needed here.

“Hey there darlin’,” Jesse murmured, taking her hands in his. “Yer ok. It was a close call, but we got out.”

Angela choked out a sob as a fat tear began its journey down her cheek. “No.”

“No?” Brow crinkling, Jesse lightly squeezed her hands. “Hon, we’re safe now.”

“N-no. I’m not. I won’t ever be.” She shook his hands away, opting to latch onto the front of his serape and bring herself close. Shudders wracked the woman’s body in a reaction Jesse had seen before, but not from the doctor.

He lightly stroked her hair, keeping one hand lax at his side so as to not push her too far. “Shh. It’s ok t’be scared. We all get that way sometimes, but ya need to know nothing’s gonna hurt ya here, what with our resident dragon man an’ all.” Through her thick blonde locks, Jesse saw the doctor’s eyes briefly flicker over to Hanzo. He continued talking. “Gotta admit, I did not see that comin’. Guess I should’a expected it, being as Genji’s got a dragon an’ all, but they were a damn sight larger than Soba that’s for sure.”

“I… thought they might be,” Angela finally managed. “I’ve seen what they can do.”

It felt as if ice had begun forming in his stomach. Genji. She’d meant Genji. _Is that why she doesn’t feel safe?_ “Ange, I promise you Hanzo ain’t gonna hurt ya. His dragons passed right through us earlier an’ I’m sure if he’d wanted to-,”

Jesse broke off when those big blue eyes turned up to face him. “It’s not him I’m scared of. I… I…”

“Ya don’t have to tell me anything ya don’t want to,” he soothed.

Angela shook her head, eyes dropping to his chest once more. “I don’t think I’ve got a choice anymore.”

Her words dried up and Jesse elected to simply let her cry into his serape for the rest of the short flight. It felt like she’d needed it, and if the lessening tension in her shoulders was any indication, by the time they’d arrived back on base, Angela had managed to recompose herself to some degree.

Winston met them at the hangar, anxiously eating peanut butter straight from the jar. A few other agents were dotted about here and there, undoubtedly having heard of the situation and wanting to make sure their friends, and in some cases family, were unharmed. On seeing the shock of blonde hair by Jesse’s side, Fareeha and Lena started towards the ship. They were halted however, when Torbjorn stepped out, murmuring something that gave them pause.

To her credit, Angela stood up and walked off the transport without any more assistance than a hand to hold could provide. She would have appeared normal to any passer-by, but unfortunately the members of Overwatch were altogether too observant. Winston sighed as their small group approached.

“That could definitely have gone better,” the gorilla huffed. Jesse scratched the back of his head, repositioning his hat as he did so. It seemed the others were feeling the oppressive atmosphere too, as even the ever-talkative Hana remained silent.

That was, until a sharp, bordering on hysterical chuckle burst from Angela’s lips, causing every pair of eyes in the hangar to turn to her.

“Winston…” she eventually managed. “Do I have a story for you.”

The gorilla looked a little perturbed to say the least. “… Is everything ok, Angela? We can postpone the debriefing if you’d like to take a break.”

“No.” Her reply was finite, cutting through the murmurs that had sprung up around them. “We’re doing this now. Before I lose the nerve to.”

Jesse couldn’t think of a reply. Neither, it seemed, could Winston, who simply stood there, mouth agape. It wasn’t until Hanzo spoke some ten seconds later that he realised they must have been making everything far worse for the doctor by waiting.

“It would be best to find a conference room, would it not?”

“Uhh, of course!” Winston spluttered, beginning to move towards the main complex. “There’s a free room in this block.”

Once the party had started walking, Jesse nudged Angela. “Ya ok?”

She grimaced. “As I’ll ever be. You…” she paused, thinking her next words over before saying them. “You might not think of me the same after this. Any of you.”

Still not knowing what she was talking about, Jesse reached out to squeeze her hand lightly. “Angela, I’ve got a _sixty-million-dollar_ bounty on my head and ya still associate yer good self with me. What can be worse than that?”

It turned out _that_ was the wrong answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late. I was planning on doing other fics this week, but for some reason I couldn't get this out of my mind. So here we go. Sort of a graduation present to myself.


	7. Secrets

Even after having deliberately stepped away to make the doctor more comfortable, Hanzo could still feel tension and fear radiating from her in waves. It seemed whatever she was anxious about was rather important. It was a good thing that the conference room Winston lead them to was only a short walk from where they’d disembarked. After the small team had filed in, Brigitte shutting the door carefully behind, that all eyes turned to the Gorilla. He cleared his throat nervously.

“What happened?”

“Talon,” McCree growled. “They came outta the facility itself, so that’s compromised. I’d say I didn’t know how they found out about it, but seein’ as there was a familiar face amongst ‘em…”

“Moira.” Reinhardt’s booming voice was somewhat subdued, but there was an underlying bitterness to it that Hanzo didn’t understand. _That would be the red-headed woman_ , he supposed. He didn’t miss how Dr Ziegler flinched at the name.

Winston pushed his glasses up. “Dr O’Deorain? I thought she was working for Vishkar these days.”

“You an’ me both. For the newbies here, Moira was a geneticist for Overwatch before the fall. Always had a hand in the less legal operations. Makes sense she’s shacked up with Talon now.”

“But why _there_?” Winston asked. Taking in the room full of blank faces, he sighed. “We shall have to investigate later. Now-,”

“Wait.” Dr Ziegler’s voice was soft and wavering, but everyone heard.

“Angela…” Reinhardt took a step forwards but stopped as she raised a trembling hand.

“No. I need to tell you all something important. Something I should have said a long time ago. Please do not stop me until I have finished, because if you do, I don’t think I will be able to.” There was silence for a moment. Even Hana, it seemed, was holding her breath. Then, the doctor sighed, turning her eyes to Winston. With steely determination, she continued.

“I was in a relationship with O’Deorain.” Reinhardt let out a minute gasp. The others were silent; Brigitte and Hana exchanging confused looks that echoed his own. Curiously enough, the most telling reaction was McCree’s. The man stared forwards, eyes glazed over and mouth slack with something akin to epiphanic horror dawning on his face. “It was supposed to be a secret. That sort of relationship was everywhere back in the day… hell, _everyone_ knew Jack and Gabe were seeing each other. We were supposed to report any fraternising, but the worst that happened was that someone would occasionally walk in on the two of them _discussing tactics_ , and the troops would have something to giggle about behind command’s back for a few weeks.”

Dr Ziegler paused, walking over to the window to gaze out at the rocky landscape below. “I was naïve. O’Deorain had always been the secretive sort, and she expressed a need for privacy. I didn’t want to make anything… _difficult_ for her.” The way she said those words, the tiny snarl of her lip and clench of her jaw implied that they weren’t her own. “It wasn’t until much later that I found out she’d been stealing from me.”

“I confronted her. Of course I did,” Dr Ziegler snarled, answering a query no one had asked. “I told her I knew what she’d done, and that I was not going to let her continue. But… she just laughed at me. She laughed and laughed… and I knew no one would believe me. I was nothing.”

Hanzo felt his spine turn rigid. It was strange how different the doctor’s circumstances were to his own, yet how similar the outcome. The feeling of nothingness, of being _nothing_ … He understood far more than he’d like to admit. However much of her hidden truth had translated to the others was difficult to say, but McCree at the very least looked like he knew. The man still stood, the same expression on his features as before.

That was until Dr Ziegler turned to face the group, and his sorrowful eyes snapped up to meet hers. “So now you know. Talon had access to every piece of information I did before the fall. I have no doubt that O’Deorain was working with them even then. And before I finish,” she raised her chin. “I would like to make it clear that I will accept any and all disciplinary measures you wish to give me.”

“No,” McCree growled, voice hoarse and full of emotion. “No. We ain’t doin’ this. You all know jus’ as well as I do that Angela is the _victim_ here. I ain’t gonna stand here an’ pretend that what I just heard is anything but manipulating, plain and simple.”

“Jesse…” Winston began, cut off almost immediately by Reinhardt.

“Jesse is right,” he rumbled, and Hanzo noticed his cheeks were far damper than they had been a moment ago. “Angela, we all had our suspicions as to why you became so withdrawn, but this… I will personally see to it that you get revenge.”

Brigitte stepped forwards, normally cheerful face dark and angry. “Angela, you’re like a sister to me, and I look after my family. She will answer for what she’s done.”

“B-but…”

“I’m with you guys on this one.” Hana scowled. “Government secrets or not, O’Deorain was bad enough to join Talon. We’re not innocent people here, but she’s on a whole new level.”

Dr Ziegler’s shoulders were shaking now, trembling as she buried her face in her hands. “It’s not… it’s all my fault-.”

Hanzo had heard enough. “You were afraid. You did not believe anyone would help you.” His expression softened as she looked up, skin blotchy and red. “It seems I know something of that, at least. You made a mistake and admitted it to us once you were safe. And now we are going to help you fix it.”

It seemed he’d said more than desired by the expressions of shock around the room. A heartbeat of silence may have lasted an eternity, until finally the corner of Dr Ziegler’s mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile of sorts. Eyes filling with fresh tears, she began to sob once more as Winston cleared his throat.

“For the record, I was going to say that I believe Angela has done nothing to warrant punishment. Even so,” he reached under the table to grab a box of tissues and slide them over to the doctor, “I think you should take some time off missions for the time being, at least until we figure out O’Deorain’s plan.”

“That’s-,” Dr Ziegler sniffed, pulling the box closer, “-fine. I don’t think I’m prepared to face her again.”

The gorilla shot her a reassuring smile before glancing at Brigitte. “Unfortunately, that leaves us with another issue. You are the only field-tested medic we have at this point, and-,”

“-I’m barely a medic,” she interrupted. “I provide field support for armaments and that’s it. Even if we got Lúcio field ready, I don’t think we’d be enough…”

Considering the turn of the day’s events, what happened next should not have been quite as shocking. At that precise moment, a familiar voice, muffled by the door, let out a long line of expletives. Everybody swung around to watch as the door in question crashed open, smashing itself against the wall.

“Shrike,” Winston murmured. Hanzo had never seen her with her mask on, but it was obviously the same woman he regularly drank tea with. Her posture was the same; slightly hunched, but every step as proud as the last. In three long strides, she crossed the room to face the gorilla.

“Put me down as a primary support,” she snarled.

“Err, I’m not even going to begin on how inappropriate it is to listen to meetings that do not concern you,” Winston began, trying to look serious. “But the fact remains that you are not a medic, and we don’t have any field tests of you _as_ one.”

“Oh for the love of-,” Shrike reached up, grasping the base of her mask to pull it off. “Athena, put me down as primary, would you?”

The AI’s cool voice echoed through the room. “Of course, Captain Amari. Good to have you back.”

The small woman turned to face the group, leaving Winston agape behind her. “Good to be back. Now shut your mouth Jesse, I know I’m not the strangest person _you’ve_ seen return from the grave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little addition. I'm sorry about the wait, and it's gonna be longer still, but I'm getting there :)


End file.
